Case Number 07159

JULES AND JIM: CRITERION COLLECTION

The Charge

"We played with life and lost."

Opening Statement

A masterpiece of the French New Wave, this sensuous, enigmatic film spans 30
years of friendship and love in a doomed ménage à trois.

Facts of the Case

Best friends Jules and Jim (Oskar Werner, Fahrenheit 451, and Henri
Serre, La Révolution Française) enjoy the carefree life of
affluent intellectuals, indulging in the pleasures of pre–World War I
Paris. Austrian biologist Jules embraces the city as he would a lover, if he
could find the right girl. He takes occasional comfort in the company of
"professionals," although Jules tells Jim he grows weary of
meaningless liaisons, the empty exchange of francs. Women glide into bed with
the introspective Jim, a writer who remains too detached, too doggedly
independent to form any lasting relationship.

A love triangle develops when they meet Catherine (Jeanne Moreau, La
Notte), a passionate, impulsive, and intensely desirable woman whose lust
for life burns like a supernova. The attraction between them is immediate.
Although the men have shared women before, Jules implores Jim to stand aside;
"Not this one," he tells his friend.

Catherine and Jules begin a joyous romance and marry in the days before the
long shadow of World War I casts Europe into darkness. Jules is called to duty
by the Austrian Army; Jim enlists with the French. Although they fight on
opposing sides, their friendship endures. Jules writes impassioned letters to
Catherine, but the distance between them soon involves more than geography.

Reunited years later in Paris, the friends take up residence in a mountain
chateau nestled in the French countryside, where Catherine has grown
dissatisfied with the passive Jules. Realizing this, his pain manifests itself
in quiet glances, small gestures, and thinly veiled pleas for advice from the
worldly Jim. Now callous and contemptuous, Catherine seduces Jim into an uneasy
affair. Jules remains so devoted to both that he cannot bear to leave.

The years and the war have altered the carefree dynamic that once existed
between the men and especially their muse. Catherine's spontaneity erodes into
melancholy. Dark impulses bleed through her once-inscrutable demeanor. Jules
wonders whether he could ever hold on to her heart. Jim wonders if any man
could.

The Evidence

Gloriously alive and still potent after 40-odd years, François
Truffaut's third film is a love letter to the cinema and an astonishingly mature
work of art (he was 29 when principal photography began in 1961). In its
multilayered exploration of life, love, and doomed romance, this is truly a film
where the significance of the journey exceeds the importance of the destination,
which is inevitable.

An omniscient narrator speaks neutrally about what has passed. His voice
echoes how Jules and Jim and Catherine feel, as his words supply the occasional
hint of what is to come. Timeless themes of friendship, love, and the joy of
living are burned into the early frames of this film, just as sexual obsession,
disillusionment, and despair dominate the final act. It's as though Truffaut did
not so much conceive a masterwork as he channeled artistic genius from the sum
total of European experience in the first half of the 20th century. There are
scenes so achingly beautiful, their essential truths so profound, that viewers
might wonder: Was the French auteur a mere alchemist, weaving gold from history
lessons and experience, or was he some modern Prometheus -- breathing life into
the film, evoking universal feelings and ideas in such a bold and electrifying
manner that film lovers four decades later still gasp at the scope and depth of
human experience captured in these flickering images?

Yes, this is high praise. Truffaut and his collaborators deserve every
accolade.

Admiration for technique and craftsmanship deepens on subsequent viewings.
This may be one of the most carefully constructed films in all cinema, as
Truffaut alters the editing rhythms to reflect his characters' evolving
situations and, with brilliant results, to evoke even their inner desires. Look
again at one of the iconographic images of world cinema: When Jules and Jim
marvel quietly at Catherine's beauty, Truffaut famously freeze-frames on her
smiling face at three distinct points -- like a fashion photographer -- as
though the men desperately want to preserve this fleeting moment in time. At
first kinetic -- all zooms and flash cuts and spiraling dolly shots -- the
flashy camera work gradually evaporates, like Catherine's state of mind, as her
marriage to Jules disintegrates.

The performances are staggering, especially the work of Moreau, whose
effervescence turns to gloom as Europe darkens and goes to war. As Jules, Werner
demonstrates the psychological devastation of a man who loves with all his heart
and soul, realizing too late that nothing he can offer will ever be enough for a
woman who repays love with cruelty. Serre plays blasé with brilliance as
Jim, who sees Catherine as a rambunctious, sexually liberated lover, yet he
cannot bring himself to hold her at bay for the sake of his friendship with Jim.
Because Catherine cannot choose between these men -- indeed, she cannot embrace
a single, dominant personality of her own -- she dooms them both.

Based on a semi-autobiographical novel by Henri-Pierre Roché, who was
in his seventies when he wrote the book, this story -- and especially
Catherine's character -- must have touched Truffaut at some fundamental level.
He was not alone. Note the trace elements of this film that director Cameron
Crowe lifted for Vanilla Sky.

Criterion bestows reverential treatment on a modern classic, this little
miracle of the cinema that enriches our appreciation of life with each viewing.
Surpassing its own considerable reputation for quality, Criterion offers a
restored high-definition transfer, supervised by director of photography Raoul
Coutard, that shimmers in satin shades of black and white. Video and audio are
impeccable. The bonus material spread across two discs seems nothing less than
comprehensive: Two audio commentaries, the best featuring Moreau herself. Video
interviews and retrospectives, including a 1977 Q&A with Truffaut made five
years before a brain tumor would take his life. Rare images of the original
shooting script with Truffaut's hand-written annotations. A 42-page booklet of
essays and stills from the film. And these are merely the highlights of a
beautiful package: from the provocative choice of cover art, to the telling
music that plays over the menu selections. For the discriminating collector,
what could be more delightful than acquiring the DVD of a beloved film,
meticulously packaged by people who truly understand its beauty and its
significance? Criterion remains the absolute reference standard for DVD
excellence. Bravo.

Closing Statement

Impassioned and exhilarating, Jules and Jim sears itself into the
memory like an endless summer kiss that begins, eyes closed, in the fleeting
moment before the thunder of an approaching storm.